


1977: We Were Here

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AIDS crisis, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asymptomatic Neurocognitive Impairment (ANI), Dementia, Depression, F/F, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gay Rights, HIV-associated Dementia (HAD), HIV/AIDS, Homophobia, Homophobic Grisha Yeager, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Neurocognitive Disorder (MND), Neuropsychological Disorders, gay rights movement, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Levi and Eren lead the gay-rights movement of the 70's.(Based losely on the memoir and love story written by Tim Conigrave.)





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> @yoifuckedmeup

A panicked man ran down the streets of Germany; his eyes frightened and his ink-like hair ruffled from the cold wind that blew in from the ocean every morning before the sun was fully risen. Nothing was chasing him excluding his own fears and what lay behind his own eyelids as he closed them to blink. A canvas was laid out before him each and every moment he observed such imagery… this time being an empty face sitting next to him. Simply, an empty face with only a name on its back. It was much of an important name, a dear one, nonetheless.

_Eren…_

Levi stopped running only a moment to card his fingers through the locks a top of his mind. He didn’t understand, more so, he certainly refused to. It was his fault he was forgetting the things most important to himself… those that he cherished most for his entirely too short, almost pitiful life. He had been careless throughout his younger years, and now, he was cursed with the inability to remember what shade Eren’s eyes had been… or what his face had looked like for the most part. 

Did he have green eyes or brown? Was his hair golden or more of a brunette shade? Levi remembered his voice as clear as day like it was being spoken straight into his ear… a warm, honey being pooled into every crevice of Levi’s being. Sweet was the only way that Levi could describe Eren’s voice. But was his face a match to the honeycombs of his vocal chords? Perhaps, perhaps not. It didn’t matter if Levi remembered the man as lovely or quite the opposite. _He just wanted to remember._

His photos had been taken, his dignity strewn across the top of a blank sheet of paper without a second of remorse when it had occurred just a year or two previous, but why did his memories have to join the things that were to be removed? Materialistic things, yes, meant little to nothing to him in the long run, but memories weren’t of the same scale. They were simply too significant. They had too much of an impact to be as easily forgotten as they had been. 

Levi did not have a telephone where he was now living. He didn’t have the sheer access to something as of it, so he was left to run through the streets as if he were utterly mad instead of reaching toward a nearby wall in the privacy of his own company. 

“No, no, no.. he distinctly had _brown_ hair,” Levi repeated as if it were a mantra. Several passersby of the early morning street were staring at the delusional man with all of the same looks: disgust, pity, and the rarest of them all, concern. Those who carried concern for perfect strangers who they didn’t know, were ultimately the kindest and well-sought-out members of society. 

Those people had become an extinct race not too long ago; the last member dying with no dignity to his name, as it had been stripped.

“Brown hair… what color were his eyes… what color were his eyes… They had been beautiful. Please remember," he told himself. "Please remember." There was unfortunately no clear image in his mind of the man he had spent the majority of his adult-aged life with. 

Levi searched the city for what seemed like hours. He had scoured every alley, every street corner, every place he had every once thought to have seen a pay-phone, until now, where there were none to be found in any place where one had once hung… only a darkened area where the sun had not bleached the color hidden by the completely active telephone that had since been shed. Only when Levi felt blisters forming on the ends of his toes and the inside soles of his feet in his shoes, did he find one on practically the other side of town. 

With all of the change that he had remaining in his jean pockets, he shoved the money into the payphone and dialed Mikasa’s number as fast as he could so he wouldn’t forget what he was doing by the time that Eren’s sister picked up; a usual occurrence now because of the dementia as well as many other diseases that picked at his mind.

“Hello?” Mikasa answered in a groggy voice due to the early hour it was over in the United States.

Levi wasted no time in pouring his heart out, “Mikasa, Hi, it’s Levi. I need you to tell me what Eren looked like.”

There was a small bit of silence over the receiver, followed by a questioning, “What?”

“Please,” Levi wanted to sob. “I just need you to tell me what he looked like. What was his hair color, his eyes, what shape was his face… do you have any photos you could mail me? The ones from the ceremony, perhaps? I’m forgetting him, Mikasa… I don’t want to forget. I can’t remember…” A tear streamed down the side of Levi’s face as the words left his tongue and into the receiver.

Mikasa’s voice was tense, as if she was trying to hide something, “Levi… you know how my father feels about you having any of that kind of stuff after… he’s still extremely upset and he get’s really angry if I mention you to him... ” She paused and left out a sigh, deciding that she really didn’t have an option at this point. “Hadn't you saved a photo or two when they took them al? Surely, you have one somewhe-” 

The line clicked, signifying that their time had run out for that phone call, and that Levi would have to insert more change if he wanted to continue.

Levi panicked and flipped his finger on the receiver, trying to see if he could somehow let the phone allow him more time. After a few moments, he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to and almost dropped the phone. He turned around and ran his fingers through his hair again for the almost millionth time that day and spun around to the almost empty street; hanging up the phone.

“ _Wechselgeld_?” He asked to a passing stranger, where they laughed in response and then continued onward, uncaring. Levi asked the person walking behind them a short ways and they passed without a single glance thrown in the disheveled man on the street. No one cared that he had a incredibly important phone call to tend too. 

Five minutes turned into twenty, which turned into an hour.

Levi finally stopped his measly wandering after an hour and a half before standing there, utterly confused.

He turned around once, and then twice, not familiar with his surroundings. He didn't necessarily understand what he was doing, or why for that matter. His mind was a blank slate.

_What was he doing out here?_

...

As a child, Eren Jaeger had never realized that he was different from other children. Ignorance is bliss? Not particularly in this young man’s case. Growing up in the 1960s had already been hard enough as it could get for young Eren, but even as he surely approached his teen years, he never expected for something to be off or more so, _troubling_ about his character to his friends, family and neighbors. In fact, he thought he was like everyone else in the world’s population of young boys.

He struggled with his homework occasionally like all of the other students in his all-boys school in San Francisco, California, he was eagerly awaiting the chance that he would have with potentially joining his school’s baseball league, and he was already concerning himself with the possibilities of colleges looking at him for his academic and athletic success. Every-other day that he wasn’t busy after school, he would go down to the diner a block or two away from his house and help with serving the customers for a small amount of pay from the owner. Many of the boys in his school also wound up at the same place just after class was dismissed. Usually, they could be seen toting around girls from an all girl’s school nearby on their arm as if they were a personal belonging rather than a living, breathing person. Eren would’ve most-likely stepped in to stop their behavior of talking to the girls as if they weren’t of any value, but many didn’t seem to mind for whatever odd reason. They just accepted it as if the boys’ crude remarks were nothing than a pleasant greeting and clung to whichever they were interested in as if they were their lifeline; usually going home with the same boy later that evening.

Eren found that particularly odd, but he chose best to ignore their peculiar behavior and close up the diner at the owner’s command to finally go home for the evening. 

Nearly every single day Eren observed the same thing: a young girl attempting to impress one of the males sitting at the counter with her flaunty hair and painted-on lips. Almost always, one of his classmates gave in and told the young woman exactly what she wanted to hear so they would later get a reward for it. That was also strange for Eren to have to witness because, on most days, the women weren’t sexually attractive in the least. They wore too-tight skirts that looked almost impossible to move around in and their heels probably made their entire day even more horrible and wretched, (which was probably why they were always so snippy towards him if he asked if they would like to order something, now that Eren had thought about it.)

While not often, Eren would find that the attention would pour in his direction and he was left to only to politely decline any offers that were thrown at him. Girls would always ask him the same things as if it was going to make him feel good about himself or something such as. “You’re quite attractive, wanna get out of here?” Was surprisingly on the top of things that Eren had been either asked or overheard. Another one that he found strange was women leaning over the counter-top to grasp his muscular forearms, thus stating; “Honey, these are some quite muscular arms you have here… do you exercise?” 

He would usually respond to the latter as in, “Oh, I play baseball on the league at my school.” In which they would then respond through the lie of, “Wow? Baseball? Interesting. I love a man who plays baseball,” and continue to fondle his arms in ways that made him feel extremely awkward. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should be acting like the other males who smirked at the ladies’ comments and proceeded to show off their muscles through flexing or other means, but Eren just couldn’t have cared less for what the girl’s thought of his arms. They were simply just arms in his eyes. It was not as if Eren was going to approach a random woman on the street and grasp her arms; stating that they were muscular. Even if he did, he would surely be arrested of some charge of harassment.

On the other hand, Eren was the best wing-man for all of the other men at his school. He would simply state to the girls that he was not available at the moment, _“but that striking young man sitting a few stools down surely is”_ and Eren was instantly relieved of the pressure put on him to act a certain way around females. While everyone else he knew could act extremely casual as if they were built for the act of conversing with the other sex, Eren just struggled to do so. 

He wasn't uncomfortable or flustered around girls, he just had no interest in hearing them state the same boring dialogue repetitively. Most women were simply just too obsessed with trying to fit into the normal cookie-cutter image that was created by whatever society seemed to believe that was perfect. 

Only when a girl had kissed Eren, did he realize that something was wrong with him- or “wrong” according to the greater percentage of the population. 

Because when you kiss someone, you’re supposed to _feel something._

And yet, Eren felt nothing.

...

Eren first heard the term “homosexual” from his Father- and it hadn’t had been on the best terms.

On June 28th, 1969, police raided the Greenwich Village gay bar known as the Stonewall Inn in New York City. Most of the police on duty at the time had expected for everyone to clear out, and they would make a few arrests that evening. However, It didn’t exactly go according to Police plans and the homosexual community fought back. Thirteen people were arrested and many were hospitalized and the riots lasted for nearly two full days. 

News over the riots was not widely documented over the US since the entirety of the state was not open to the homosexual lifestyle, but where Eren lived, right near the gay capital of the United States, it was widely documented. It would even show up on television occasionally during the two days and following weeks after. 

“Fuckin’ homos,” Grisha had said as both him and his family were sat around the dinner table; looking at the television from where it was positioned just a bit to the left where the lounge was located, “shovin’ their disgusting lifestyles in our faces all of the time. Now they’re going off to hurt our police officers out in New York for no fuckin’ reason.” He jabbed his fork in a chunk of steak extremely hard and proceeded to cut it in two with a knife, “If it was up to me, I’d kill all of the fags so they stop influencing our younger generation.”

Carla gently reached out and placed her hand on her husband’s, “Language, Dear. You’re at the dinner table.”

Eren looked up from his plate and glanced around his father to look at the TV, where the news report had already changed to something else which were, for some reason, more “pressing” matters. However, Eren had never heard of the word before which was somehow describing a person or more so, group.

“What does ‘fag’ mean?” Eren asked his father, looking over from where he had glanced at the television. 

Grisha glanced up from his plate; a scowl covering his face, “Nothing you need to ever mention again. Don’t you ever mention them in my house ever again or you won’t be living here anymore. They aren’t fucking welcome to be even thought of. Disgusting, that’s what they are.” He stabbed his fork into his food almost angrily.

They were never mentioned in the Jaeger household ever again.


	2. During

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren finds himself in the Castro District and runs into quite an interesting woman named Hanji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During the late sixties and early seventies onward, there was a huge migration of gay men towards San Francisco. It increased even more, however, when Harvey Milk began running for city supervisor (which is an important historical aspect of this story), the population that considered themselves as gay or anything of similarity, increased. Especially in the Castro District. 
> 
> I know that I seem to be speaking of Harvey Milk a lot in this story, but it was extremely important for gay rights during this time period when he was running. As much as it seems that I am embellishing, it's simply the truth. 
> 
>  
> 
> insta: @yoifuckedmeup

_1975_

 

While Eren’s father was sitting in the barber’s chair, getting both his hair and beard trimmed, he sat in the window and stared aimlessly into the street; watching as people passed by holding each other's hands and balancing on each other's arms. Cars passed in a certain familiar way of controlled traffic- not nearly as much obnoxious honking as Eren knew from his own town. Here, people were much more quiet in regards to the noises of their vehicles. They weren’t silent, nor were they reserved, but all the while, they were what was to be considered respectful.

According to Grisha, he was certain that this was the only place that was capable of trimming his hair and not completely ruining it. He liked the place, but he hated the location in which it was located, for whatever reason. While he continued to say that this was the best place to get your hair cut, it was losing customers faster than ever before. Grisha was practically only the person who still came to the small shop beside a few men who related to Grisha’s views.

Eren glanced down the street and continued to observe everyone walking down the sidewalk. They all seemed to be some of the happiest people that he had ever seen in his entire life. Many were happily holding each other with no fear; kissing and holding hands as they pleased. They didn’t seem to be placing themselves into a certain box of laws and regulations. He saw nothing wrong with it.

“Is that faggot still running for supervisor?” Grisha said as he stared into the mirror at the movements of the barber. He coughed slightly into his fist and adjusted himself in his seat for comfort, knowing that he was going to be in the chair for quite a long time as his beard was trimmed to perfection.

The barber huffed at his comment, “as much as I’d like to say no, I’m afraid it’s true. We’ve had the blacks, and women, but now the homos want to join in- which truly draws the line for me. As soon as I had shown any signs of distaste, my business is gone. Bastard told every damned homo in town to avoid my shop and go to the one across the street instead.” He wiped the blade he had been using to shave the other man’s face clean, “You’re the only person I’ve had for the past three days. If this keeps up, I’ll go out of business.” A scoff left his throat. “Really, it’s ridiculous.”

Grisha nodded respectfully, “I’m sorry that you’re losing customers like this. Such a shame, really.” He smiled but laughed and shook his head instead of adding anything else to the Barber’s statement. “I’m definitely not going to be voting for him or anyone that would decide to live the same disgusting lifestyle. Before we know it, there won’t be any normal stores left here. It’s horrible, truly.”

“I’m the only one left. Soon, I’m going to have to move locations.”

Upon accident, Grisha’s eyes fell upon his son’s, where the younger man had been staring back at his head subconsciously at his words. As soon as he glanced at Eren, the boy’s head snapped in the other direction where he would then stare at the ground with determination. He looked practically terrified from being caught, in his father’s eyes, and this troubled Grisha. Never had Eren seemed so… _uneasy_ with his language and general expression. 

He cleared his throat while he looked away from Eren, “have the police been involved at all?” 

The Barber laughed, wiping off his blade with a towel, “they’ve been tryin’ but it hasn’t really been workin’ for em’. Seems like they can’t really do much in fear of retaliation like what happened in New York.” He resumed his skillful work at the throat of the other man, “If it were up to me, we’d get rid of ‘em the ol’ fashioned way: guttin’ ‘em like fish.” 

Eren swallowed thickly.

“Too much of’a hassle, though.” Grisha smiled, “throwing them in prison seems reasonable enough for me. Get the fags off the street before the next generation starts pickin’ up their habits. They’re already spreading around all kinds of fucked up diseases while they're at it- and I’ll tell you one thing, gay equals AIDS. That’s the truth of it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Eren accidentally dropped the magazine that he had been pretending to read onto the ground with a quite audible _flop._ He hadn’t meant for it to slip past his fingers, it was simply just an accident. Focusing too much of his father’s words was a newly-formed habit of his; occasionally, he would forget what he was actually doing in real time because he was so dedicated to listening to his old-man's bigoted opinions.

“Sorry,” Eren muttered after he picked it up from the ground. He quickly brushed it off and was about to open it again when the Barber made a comment that Eren would later be thankful for in the most minuscule of ways.

“Why don’t you go walk around town while I finish up on your pop?” He stepped back from the chair he had been leaning over. Placing his hands on his hips, he then continued: “I hear there are quite a few pretty ladies just a block or two away?” He smiled and waggled his eyebrows once, “maybe you can go hit it off with one of ‘em.”

Eren wasn’t entirely opposed to exploring the Castro District a bit, but Grisha immediately seemed drawn from the idea. 

“No, absolutely not. Eren’s not used to being in a part of the city like this, and he isn’t familiar with his surroundings. The last thing I want him doing is getting himself lost.” He seemed almost proud of his suppliant until Eren rebelliously retaliated in such a small way, that it seemed almost innocent. Something of which Eren had never attempted in his entire life since he was too frightened of Grisha’s angry side.

“Actually,” Grisha’s glare almost shut him up, but the small fire in the pit of his stomach fueled him in the spur of the moment to continue. “I’m really interested in a few stores that we passed by -on our way here- that are looking for workers. It would be a great starting job- especially one at a small department store or such. Don’t you think? I could just ask about the inquiry and set up a date when I could come in- it wouldn’t take me all that long-”

Grisha’s Barber laughed at Eren’s explanation but didn’t question the vagueness of it. “See? He’s got it all figured out. That’s a swell idea ya got there. I say you go show them how good of a kid you are and see if you can get some money for College comin’ up pretty soon. They can’t say no to a hardworking, determined kid as of yourself.” 

With little to argue with at that point, Grisha was forced to allow Eren to go explore the city a little bit- which wasn’t necessarily the truth of the matter to him. Eren wasn’t going to go find himself a job somewhere, he was going to walk around the Castro to look at the wide array of people that were there. Not that his father ever needed to know such a thing.

Ever since Milk had started to run for City Supervisor, the town was well-known as “gay-friendly,” or as “gay-friendly” as it could get during the 70’s. Prejudice still was a huge problem, and many men within the Castro still dealt with homophobia thrown in their direction daily, but there was a small bit of security that was felt on the streets when surrounded by hundreds of people who were dealing with the same things. Even with police prowling the place to take away people under whatever accounts they could make up on the spot, it was quite a bit of improvement from the usual hate in any other of the surrounding towns. 

Eren had never felt more excited to walk around a town other than in that very moment. He let the barber shop door slam behind him as he stepped into the hot Californian sun, breathing in deeply to calm himself from how fast his heart was beating when seemingly, “challenging” Grisha just moments previous. He knew that his rebellious acts would come back later to bite him in the ass, but he couldn’t care at that moment in time. He was going to live in the moment as of now and pay for it later. 

With growing up in a nearby town, Eren would’ve liked to say that he had been to the Castro once or twice in his life. However, that wasn’t the case. He never got out besides to school or where he worked afterward, or maybe a small vacation with his family. Not because he didn’t want to, but because of how tight Grisha’s reigns were on his wife and son. If they wanted to do anything, they would have to come to him and ask for permission first- and let’s just say it was incredibly difficult to earn permission from the man.

Eren bumped into a shirtless man by accident and quickly apologized, continuing on past him and gazing around the street at the wide variety of people.

And Eren had definitely been right when he said that the people were a colorful, interesting bunch.

Besides seeing the usual styles of the seventies, Eren saw much more of an unfamiliar sense of fashion with most of the people. There were the classic bell-bottom jeans on a few of the passersby-ers, along with some who decided to wear almost nothing to flaunt their toned bodies. Alongside these things were tight, almost cropped-shirts with embroidered print on the front of slogans and names, those who wore almost business-like wear (as they were most likely hustling from their lunch-break back to work) and some dressed in casual wear. 

Most of the people seemed to be in small groups; only a few walking by themselves or leaning against a building to smoke a quick cigarette before returning to their shift in whatever store. The people on the street were prominently consistent with the male gender, while very few women seemed to be a part of the party. Eren wasn’t clueless -reading the papers were becoming a past-time for him of sorts- as to why. 

“Look at this cutie,” someone said loudly enough for Eren to hear as he passed by the front-side of a small store. 

Eren only spared the person who had said the latter a quick glance for their appearance before deciding to continue onwards through the human traffic. They seemed to be female to Eren; wearing her long, brown hair up in a tight, messy ponytail with the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped cascading down the sides of her face, a top of which sat a pair of thick glasses pulled away for freedom as a cigarette hang from her lips.

“E-excuse me?” Eren asked, unbelieving that someone had described him as “cute.”

The woman just snorted at his cluelessness, “ya heard me, ya cutie. It’s not every day here that we some fresh meat that’s as nice as you.” She pulled her cigarette from her mouth and put it out by stomping on it. “Where’ya from?”

Eren was at a loss for words, “Uh-”

“I wasn’t asking for your home address, just the town or city. It’s called being polite.” She seemed like an extremely nonchalant human; almost low-maintenance in a way but still seeming to fit under the category of classy. Her outfit oozed of masculinity, however. Which made Eren second-guess his first announcement of what gender she appeared to be. Her outfit consisted of a loose yellow shirt under an old denim jacket and high-waisted jeans, which was almost the same thing that Eren was wearing.

“Oh,” Eren walked a bit closer to her so he wouldn’t have to repeat himself when he answered. “I’m from around here. I don’t live here but about thirty minutes away with traffic. Fifteen with none.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hoped that his response would suffice for the woman. Eren didn’t necessarily feel comfortable with telling a complete stranger where he lived, even if they looked completely well-intended.

The woman chuckled, “Have you ever been here in the Castro before?”

Eren shook his head.

“Wow? Never? You look like the kind of guy to hang around here pretty often,” she smirked to herself, like what she was saying was completely hilarious or at least honest in some kind of way; like it was honest or truthful.

Eren furrowed his eyebrows together, “is that supposed to be offensive or just a statement…?” He didn’t know exactly what the woman was hinting at, but he somehow knew what she meant from looking at the people walking the street. He didn’t find it offensive in the least, or the slightest amount of what it would be intended to be. If it was anyone else being compared to everyone on the street, they would be revolted and completely offended.

“Honey, it can be whatever you make it.” She pulled down her glasses from where they were rested on the top of her head. “What do you think of it?”

Eren stared at her. Was this supposed to be a trick question or a way to pull information out of him? He didn’t exactly know how to answer her question. 

“It doesn’t really bother me…” Eren said. “Everyone here seems pretty nice, so I’d like to be compared to them. In my home town, everyone is pretty rude and full of prejudice… it just seems to be a bit better here.” 

Smiling, the woman stepped down from the steps of the store the second Eren responded and held out her hand for Eren to shake, “The name’s Hanji.” Her entire attitude turned around when Eren accepted the outstretched hand and shook it. “What’s your’s, sweetie?”

“Eren,” he released Hanji’s hand and pulled his own back to his side, only for it to be grabbed again and yanked forwards towards the entrance of the store. He was quite frightened for a few moments before Hanji decided to explain her actions. 

Running up the steps with Eren right on her heels, she then said: “I definitely have a few people that would love to meet you.” She opened the door and dragged Eren inside. He caught a quick glance at the front counter and where customers were milling amongst the shelves before he was taken behind the counter and into the back. One of the customers said a few greetings to Hanji -obviously, a regular- and Hanji responded as if they had known each other their entire life- which was probably the truth from how comfortable they were. 

“How’s it been, Hanji?” He said as he was being rang up by the cashier; a tall man with blonde hair and heavy-set eyebrows. The customer was only buying a small bottle of vodka, which was slightly concerning in Eren’s eyes since it was the middle of the day.

Hanji continued to drag Eren into the back as she said: “Oh, it’s been great, Marco. How’s the wife?” 

“You know that he hates it when you call him that, but Jean’s been great,” he looked at Eren, who was still being forced to follow her and quickly asked, “who’s this, Hanji?” From the tone of his voice, you could easily tell that he already knew that he knew what was going on from previous experiences.

“Some cutie I picked up off the street for Levi. I can already tell that he’s one of us, and he will _love_ to use him for marketing strategies. We haven’t had someone as cute as him- even the last guy wasn’t this beautiful. He’ll definitely draw attention from others in the community,” she patted Eren’s face once before she fully pulled him behind the door that leads to the back. “Tell Jean I said hi!”

Eren cleared his throat, “Um, Hanji, what do you mean by what you just said?” He was nervous by the woman’s words. He had no idea what she was taking him to do, and suddenly discussing marketing strategies wasn’t the most usual, comforting experience to hear as soon as he was dragged into an unfamiliar store in an even more unfamiliar part of San Francisco. 

Hanji let go of Eren’s arm but didn’t respond immediately. She only simply seemed to be searching for something as she glanced about the room; walking over to a desk that was completely overwhelmed with stacks of papers and files. She dug through a few of the ones sitting on the surface until she seemed to find something that she was searching for. 

“Hanji-”

“I have a friend,” she interrupted, “that has been working, the past ten years, to increase the amount of rights that there are for gay men and women in the United States.” Handing the piece of paper she had grabbed over to Eren, she then continued as the latter began to read, “In the past five years, the number of gay people has increased greatly, and I have been hoping to look for younger queer individuals to help lead our movement. Only, it’s quite difficult since many of the younger gay men and women in the U.S. are still closeted.” 

The piece of paper had a long list of names on it, many of which were crossed out with little notes written in the margins. Eren read each name on the list carefully, none that he recognized. Some of the small things that were written alongside the names were, “closet, closet, closet, uninterested,” and a few that caught his eye consisting of, “arrested, arrested,” and even “killed.” The last three were what really grabbed his attention.

“Everyone that we have tried to recruit for our organization is either uninterested anymore, closeted, or thrown in jail.” She paused as she sorted through more of the papers on the desk. “We want to gain more attention from people in the gay community around here in order for them to be interested in joining, and that’s where you come in.”

Eren stared at her, slightly questioning.

“We’re basically asking for your gorgeous face to be on a few of our fliers, and for you to join our group."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet everyone can successfully guess who Hanji's friend is; it's quite obvious, isn't it?


End file.
